


Off to the Races

by kitkaters



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: M/M, Other, is there a tag for humanoid robots in clothes but NOT humanformers?, just a silly idea for an au that I can't get out of my head, mob au? sugar daddy au?, what do i even call this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 14:53:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13683945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitkaters/pseuds/kitkaters
Summary: Longarm, a well-to-do businessman, has a dark double life that's about to be shaken up by a thrill-seeking Athlete named Blurr.





	Off to the Races

**Author's Note:**

> I listened to Lana Del Rey's "Off to the Races" on repeat for like, 2 weeks straight (with a good amount of "Serial Killer" and other songs in similar tone thrown in) and this popped into my head. Whoops.

A shift in the bed stirred Longarm from his sleep. He glanced down at the end of the bed to find Blurr mostly dressed and checking his phone.

 

“Nice of you to finally online before I left. If you had taken much longer I would've had to leave without saying anything, which isn't really my usual style and not something I really like to do,” Blurr explained, all without looking up, his finger lazily flying across the screen in a way that somehow managed to be casual and uncaring but yet still much faster than the average bot could ever type.

 

Sitting up, Longarm found Blurr to be wearing only a loose fitting jacket and socks. His eyes trailed over the mech before him, lingering on the bare thighs and recalling their mischief from the previous night. “It's really quite fascinating how busy you stay even during the off seasons,” Longarm mused. “I would've never had known how demanding the career of a racer could be outside of the actual sport without meeting you,” he continued, receiving a playful smirk from Blurr.

 

“It makes quite a difference when you're in the top ten competitors in your sport,” Blurr replied as he stood up to finish getting dressed. He pressed a quick kiss on Longarm's head before adding, “and of course, my oh-so-busy lifestyle is why I have you around.” A pair of shorts, running shoes, and a bag to pack up his spare clothes and Blurr was all but ready to head off. Longarm wasn't sure if Blurr intentionally took his time with his shorts, bending over and facing away as he pulled them up, but he appreciated the sight nonetheless.

 

“Where are you off to this time, anyway?” Longarm asked, not very interested but he much preferred the idea of small talk filling the silence instead of the small, insignificant noises caused by Blurr as he got ready.

 

“Oh just some photo shoot for a magazine interview,” Blurr answered, nonchalant. Shoving his well-worn clothes from the previous day as far into his bag as he could, he zipped it up and turned to face Longarm one last time. “I'll tell you when it's published so you'll be the only one to know what exactly I was doing before the pictures were taken,” he said with a smirk and a hand on his hip.

 

They said their goodbyes as Blurr left, the hotel room door closing with a thump that marked the beginning of near-absolute silence. Longarm sat on the edge of the bed for a moment before deciding to get ready himself.

 

Their relationship, if Longarm were to call it that, was a strange one. It wasn't quite right to label it as friendship nor romance, but they met up often enough and kept in communication even when they weren't tangled up together in some random hotel room Longarm had booked for the night. He finished knotting his tie, packed up his belongings, and headed for the door, taking one last glance around the room before exiting and letting it _shwift_ shut behind him.

 

He and Blurr had met through his job at a well-known and well-trusted security company, frequented mostly by the wealthy and famous, and as such commonly relied upon for any public sporting events where a large audience would be expected. One thing led to another as they usually do and the occasional job turned into meeting outside of work which turned into meetings of a more private nature relatively quick.

 

The work day dragged on as Longarm went through the routines, managing and scheduling with precision and skill. Friendly and kind, but leading with a firm hand, Longarm was whatever he needed to be to get the job done as efficiently and effectively as possible. He had an answer for every question already prepared and could lie his way out of just about any situation if needed. He was more than willing to pretend to be someone he wasn't for the sake of the company.

 

And pretend to be someone, he did.

 

Longarm mused upon his latest assignment as he scrolled through the pages of the data pad entailing what exactly they had been hired to do. Thinking back to a conversation he had earlier that day, he wondered how he'd make this one work.

 

“The client is aware that their requested guards have already been booked for that day, correct?”

 

“Yes, and they tipped a generous amount in advance.”

 

“Well, we'll have to make it work somehow then, won't we?”

 

Longarm packed the data pad away and headed out, opting to take a back exit. He preferred areas with no cameras watching, afterall. Glancing around one last time and deciding the hall was clear, he shifted into his alternate form. His body shifted and stretched, limbs extending and body slimming to reveal to reveal his true self, Shockwave. Tall and monstrous, shadowy and intimidating, this form was not suited well for the everyday life of a well-meaning businessman. However, it was his preferred form, and one that was much better matched to his other business.

 

Slipping outside, Shockwave stayed to the shadows and back alleyways, avoiding crossing paths with any other bot. His appearance could easily attract unwanted attention, but well-to-do Longarm would stick out even more among the city paths walked only by those with wicked and wretched intentions.

 

The destination was not too far from the building Longarm worked in, as it was a mostly abandoned warehouse skirting the edge of town where business turned into industry. It had adapted well to being the meeting place for his work. Secluded but not suspiciously so, but also not too open that it’d be a risky place to meet. However, he had to keep in mind that it was only temporary and that they would need to move again soon enough. It would only be a matter of time before the police ran out of false leads and came running after them.

 

Shockwave swung the door open and walked into the murky room, his sudden appearance demanding attention. Only one small bot looked up, which Shockwave found odd. There were never really more than a handful of bots in their meetup point at any time since it was safer to relay information through the ranks, but he had expected at least one other bot.

 

Standing in the weak glow of the only lights in the shadowy building, Shockwave waited for an answer to the question he didn't need to speak.

 

“Sir,” a smooth voice popped up from an extremely tiny bot named Flipsides. “Scopeshot isn't going to be here today.”

 

A sigh escaped Shockwave. “Did he give a reason as to _why_?” he asked, his frustration cold. Being late wasn't an option. Deciding not to show up at all wasn't one either.

 

Flipsides seemed to hesitate to answer for the briefest second. “I believe he took on a hit.”

 

Shockwave's antennae twitched. He had very few rules for bots working under him; not taking jobs that weren't first approved by a superior was one of the few strictly enforced. It was simply too dangerous for their organization to let anyone involved do whatever they wished without supervision. “Breaking two rules in one day? How reckless. I'll have to tell him later that he's officially been demoted.”

 

Flipsides gave a short nod. “Shall I continue with reports as usual?”

 

Shockwave answered and began to listen to the bot spew off statistics and figures. He noted that it seemed that they had a profitable month, but it was only a vague acknowledgement. His attention was stuck elsewhere; something about the Scopeshot situation nagged at him. He knew Scopeshot wasn’t the most clean-cut bot in existence, but he was reliable.

 

With a wave of his claws, he cut her off mid-sentence. “Quick question,” he began. “Would you happen to know who exactly Scopeshot was hired to take out? It must have had one exceptional paycheck if it convinced him of all bots to take up on it.”

 

“Oh, yes,” she answered. “You know that up and coming racer? Blurr? Apparently he's got quite the bounty on his helm.”

 

Shockwave's fuel tank lurched.

 

Not for the first time, he internally thanked his lack of face for not betraying his emotions. “I see,” he replied calmly. He did not feel calm, though, much to his irritation. Unexpected worry and disgust pricked away at him, swirling around in his helm, though he remained still and restrained. It was ridiculous, _irrational_ for him to feel so threatened by one phrase.

 

Claws clicked together rhythmically in the silence of the empty warehouse.

 

Irrational it was, yes, but… something in him felt repulsed by the thought of the blue speedster being killed. Something in him was _angry_ at the thought of losing what was _his_ so needlessly.

 

“... Sir?” Flipsides piped up, a nervous waver only hinted at in her voice.

 

Shockwave, brought out of his thoughts by the small noise, let out a short sigh. He cracked

and gave in, breaking under his anger.

 

“It looks like we’ll have to resume this meeting at a later time, I have matters to attend to,” he answered. Turning and walking out without waiting for a response, he headed to where he believed Blurr would be.

**Author's Note:**

> This is so hard for me to post because it'd be the first fic I'm posting that I've actually edited and reread and WORKED on and it's scary @-@


End file.
